A Soldier, A Scientist, A Secret
by G L Barnes
Summary: The Asset. Hyrda's No. 1 weapon against those they wish to rid the world of. Behind the scenes, however, he is scared, confused, and completely alone with his thoughts, his feelings, and the empty space where his memories should be. Nobody cares for him, or genuinely concerns for him. Nobody, that is, except for his recurring medic, who tends to him after every mission.
1. The Beginning

His memory was always wiped to near emptiness, a slate to be written over with new lies and information. It was as it always is.

"The Asset is back to base, send him through to medics, over."

Medics. Trained specifically to work in a dance-like co-ordination with the engineers, to work on the parts of him that were warm, and real, and had blood coursing through them and wounds blossoming over his body. The engineers would work on his cybernetic prosthetic limb, checking it for damage, whether that damage occur on the limb itself or the connections with his nervous system.

Buzzers, door buzzers, beeping as they allowed passage into the large room, filled with sepia tones, and men in white coats.

It was all he'd ever known.

When they first brought in the Asset, it's said they wiped his memory clean. Started from the beginning, turning him into a completely different person to who he had used to be. He had lost his arm due to his fall, from a train going over a deep, wintery gulf. That's when they'd given him the cybernetic arm. Then, they froze him. To keep him young, never aging. The serum also helped with that, I suppose. It was not unlike the one they'd injected into the muscle and bloodstream of Captain America.

Captain America.

Poor man put his faith into Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D, particularly Fury and Romanoff. They knew nothing of the snake beneath their feet, the lie within their own team. They could not tell between enemy and ally, because one was disguised as the other, an intricate disguise that left the line between the two blurred beyond hope of clarity.

HYRDA. The organisation in which evil was born. At least, that was what the workers of S.H.E.I.L.D believed. And with a motto like 'Hail Hydra,' I can see where that idea would be spurred on. Yet, for all it's evil, and wrongdoings, and determined nature to rid of those with a voice louder than the average Joe, ready to make a difference, Hyrda's technical and scientific advancements were matched by no other on the entire globe. Even the Asset's prosthetics were completely beyond advanced for it's time. Over the years, before being sent into cryo-sleep once more, they would make changes, improvements. But for it to have been a completely working, functioning arm connected with his nervous system, all the way back in the 1940's…It was something as unheard of as the mobile phone, even for Howard Stark, who was famous for new leaps forward in technical advancements.

This was the doing of Hyrda. They were the ones to create such an amazing feat of mankind. We were the ones to create such an amazing feat.

Yes. That's right. I am part of Hydra. But, before criticizing me and before giving your hesitations toward me for my choice, I must inform you, that it wasn't. It was not a choice, but rather, a birthright. My father was a scientist, a significant one, and also, happened to be the head scientist for Hyrda. I was born into such a 'legacy'. I was born into Hydra.

It was all I'd ever known.


	2. Myths, Legends, Stories

Stories. Myth. Legends. Things parents often tell their children before bed, or in casual conversation to pass the time away. However, young Inna Elena Vuković was brought up on very different stories. Yet, they weren't stories at all, but truths. Truths of the work her father dealt with, or more to the point, the man he dealt with.

"Tell me again, Father, tell me about the man with the arm," she would coo, as she snuggled into bed. Of all the stories she'd ever been told, curled up in the comfort of her warm blankets, none truly intrigued her as that of the Winter Soldier, or as her father had called him, The Asset.

"Well, he is a man with truly incredible capabilities. He is stronger than all others. He can run faster and further than both you or I," her father explained as he sat down upon the side of her bed, poking her gently in the middle of her chest while talking about his ability to run, then to himself. She, just a mere child, giggled at the gesture, then continued to listen. "He is very valuable to us at work. And when you are older, you may even get to meet him."

"What's his job at work, father?" little Inna asked, her confused ever evident on her small face. Her father, to this question, sucked in a sharp, deep breath, mapping out his next sentence in his head. One day, she would learn of his true purpose, and just why he was called The Asset. She would come to understand the nature of the man, and why he was treated as nothing more than an object, a weapon.  
But for now, she was but a child. Such stories were not for a mind like hers, especially not when she was a child of such brightness and happiness.  
"He does things for our boss, he meets up with people and sorts out things for our company."  
One day, Inna would be part of their organisation. She would grow up to be a part of HYDRA, just like her father. What part she would play, was unknown to all by this point in time. He took note of her particular interest for caring and nurturing things, bringing animals back to health and helping the local vet by taking care of animals that were regaining their strength. Mr Vuković took this as a promising sign she would be a valuable medic. And while only at the age of nine, her father's hopes for her were later fulfilled.

A medic she would become, and at 25 years old, a much taller, much wiser Inna Elena Vuković had learnt all the secrets and the truths behind her father's stories. She would grow to learn exactly who her father worked for, and who she too would work for. After completing her studies at a fine medical school, she would become a valuable member, and eventual vice coordinator, of the HYDRA medical division. Yet, at 25 years old, she felt as normal as any other adult her age. She thought nothing of the fact that she worked for an agency that conducted the killings of various a many people, and she also thought nothing of the secrecy it bred. She was born and raised into the environment she now occupied, and had been nurtured into the world around her.

"I need a report on our supplies," informed Inna to a colleague under her supervision, as she held stiff, neat clipboard in her hands and let her eyes skim over the paper's contents, not looking toward that of whom she was speaking to, but knowing they were listening, and she was listening in turn.

"We are running a bit low, but I've informed the head of division and he's talking with the suppliers soon, they should be in by at the very least tomorrow, at the most three days," he replied, fiddling with the buttons of his white coat and looking at Inna with a, what can only be considered casual, look upon his face. When everyone worked here, they tended to forget what their objectives were, what they were achieving at the end of the day. Or, they simply didn't care.  
"Hey Presley, have you heard the rumors that are going around lately? Mandy spoke to me earlier in the week but I didn't know whether she had a reliable source, and-" Inna started, and while Presley nodded and listened, thought of what she could be referring to made itself clear in his mind, and he interrupted her as soon as they had.

"Wait, wait, you mean about them handing over the recovery process to our division?" he questioned, crossing his arms and tapping his finger to his lip, waiting for her reply.

"So you have heard it? I didn't know whether it was true or not, they had the older medics working that task for so long, I didn't know if they'd really give it up. I do suppose they're getting old though. I was going to ask Pierce but I decided against it, I don't know why," she admitted, while placing the clipboard on the nearest bench and leaning against it, her eyes washing over the cold, metal-clad medical room, while thoughts buzzed in her mind. Presley leaned next to her and did the very same. When he next spoke, it was in a lower voice, as if only for Inna's ears.

"What do you suppose he'll be like? I mean, I've heard about him, and I've been told what they do to him and what we're supposed to do, but do you think he'll take any of it? I heard he can get pretty violent with the scientists and medics, and we're talking the ones he knows. How will he handle people he doesn't know?" question after question filled Presley's head to the brim and his mouth with words, and Inna considered each one of them. They were all excellent questions. How would he adapt to the newcomers? After having his mind wiped so many times, it was a wonder he remembered who he worked for, and what he was used for. Inna always figured they drilled it in to his head so often it would be impossible to forget.

"To him, we're probably just another component to his work. We're not in any sort of regard, just people in lab coats. If he's told to trust us, he'll do it. He has no free will," Inna replied eventually, sighing and crossing her own arms, turning the idea over in her mind. "I just didn't expect to be assigned to his recovery so soon."

"Well, I'd be willing to put money on the bet that that's what the next medic meeting is about. That and Pierce has been through here quite often as of late."

"I suspect you're right, Presley. I'm guessing the next meeting will be a debriefing and introduction."

Both Presley, and Inna, were right.


	3. Headshot

"He is to be handled with caution," Pierce warned the group of medicals in the room, as he strolled about the head of the meeting table, holding a file up high and waving it about a few times. "He can be dangerous, confused at times, and if you are not careful, he will kill you." His words were blunt, to the point, exactly how they should be. He needed to be such things to get through their minds the idea of working with a trained assassin, fixing him up after each mission.

"Sir, with all due respect, what happens if he doesn't like us, as new staff I mean. What if he doesn't obey?" Question one of the doctors, hands on the table as he looked down the room to the head of Hydra.

"Then we wipe him, start again. We MAKE him complaint. Do not doubt his training, if he is told to do as you say, he will. He's been obedient in this way for the past 70 or so years, he's not about to break that now," Pierce assured, and it seemed as if a ripple of relief spread silently through the whole room. Inna, who stood near the doorway, noticed as each of the staff looked down, some looking at one another, everyone in the room deep in thought.

So everyone had been worried about that. Worried they'd be the victim of his harsh metal grip.

"Inna," Pierce called, and she was pulled from her own thoughts and back into the room. She looked at him, with patient eyes, awaiting his instruction. "Thomas is out fir a few weeks on a separate base over in Russia, I'm going to need you to do the next assessment and set up before your division starts working with the Asset."

"I'm sorry, sir? Assessment, why is that needed?"

"We like to familiarize him with the head of staff and then work our way down, that and you need to make sure you have everything you need to fix him up. You'll have his engineers with you as well, they'll be assessing your ward to make sure they have everything to work on his cybernetic, while you work on the real parts. So really you'll just be meeting the Asset and starting off nice and slow," Pierce explained, walking down the room and handing Inna the file. It was thick, heavy, weighted in her hands. It surprised her, and she almost dropped it, but when she was certain she had it steady, she opened it up. All she could see was a sea of photos, one of him, the Asset, paperclipped to a rundown of everything about him. Height, last recorded weight, blood type, everything they needed to make sure they treated him properly. But thats not what had Inna's attention. What caught her focus was the headshot. He was looking directly into the camera. He looked broken, and the photo looked old. His hair was scruffy, growing out, but still quite short, and he had a light stubble dusted over his chin, with a hard-lipped look, as if getting his photo taken was the last thing he wanted or cared for. As she went to look at the back, she not only found the date the photo was taken (3rd of August, 1956) but another headshot, tucked meekly behind the first. It was newer than the first, the picture being sharper in clarity and the colours vibrant. Yet, though vibrant, it was dark, not for it's appearance, but the content. The look in his eyes was animalistic. His hair was now long enough to sway around his jaw, and it fell over his face in small strands. As Inna continued to look into the print of his eyes, the ink that made up the image of this killer, she grew more and more afraid, and was overwhelmed to the point of closing the file shut. No one had been watching her, for which she was thankful. Instead, Pierce had continued to speak, and she had zoned out completely.

The meeting was finished, as all the medical staff rose from their seats and flooded out of the room, into the hallways, returning to their jobs. As Inna did the same, following the flow of the small crowd, Presley caught up to her, and walked in pace with her.

"He that bad, huh?" He asked, his sights still set forward, yet talking to Inna. She looked up at him, and he looked down to her, before shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding toward the file that was currently tucked her arms. She peered down at it herself, and Presley continued. "I saw you, as you opened it and looked through the photos. Is he really that scary?"

Well. She had THOUGHT no one was looking at her.

"Worse," she sighed, flipping it open and tugging at the newer headshot, handing it over to him and closing the file once more, smoothing over the top with her palm.

Presley looked over the photo, and blew out a deep exhale, followed by a wayward whistle.

"Wow. He's really something," was all he could say, and Inna plucked the photo from him, daring to look just once more.

"I have to go assess him. It. What am I supposed to call him, they call him the Asset so do I say 'him' or 'it'?" She murmured thoughtlessly, as she stashed the headshot away in her pocket.

"I mean, he's still human right? Maybe treating him as an object makes them feel better about wiping his memories and using him," Presley shrugged, before adding "call him whatever feels right to you. I call him a 'him' just because that's what he is."

Deep inside, Inna had a sick feeling, settling within the bottom of her stomach. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she had begun to question her job. Presley's words of their ease to erase all signs of his past life and torture him into compliency were contradicted by that of, "he's still human."

He's still human.

He's still human.

Inna would not sleep that night, the words haunting her wake.


	4. Cold Locked Grip

Her pace was fast. She wanted to get to the lab room as quickly as she could. Despite her fear, her terror of the man with eyes that screamed murderer, she could only think of the stories her father told her of him. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.

As she approached the lab, she held up her ID tag, with her full name, date of birth, and a photo of her, just as all ID tags had around here.

The security guard gave her a rigid nod and punched in a few numbers, before a loud beep and the door, which resembled nothing more than a barred cell gate, slide open and revealed a sepia infused room, with a small gathering of white-coated scientists and medics, who she assumed surrounded the Asset. Inna's Russian born heart, though strong and of tough nature, was nearly beating out of her chest. Her feet were having trouble willing themself into the room. But she had to. She had to see him for herself. Others in the business didn't know him as The Asset, but as the 'Winter Soldier.' And she needed to see him her own eyes.

Finally, Inna forced her body to shuffle itself into the room, and cleared her throat. All those in white coats turned to her. Between them, she could only just catch a glimpse of him, but couldn't see him clearly.

"I'm here on the behalf of Sean Thomas, head of Medic, to give an assessment to the Asset," she declared, and one person stepped forward with an extended hand.

"Hey, th'names Fletcher May, I've been head of the recovery process for a long while." Inna could tell. His hair was nothing short of white, and his hand was firm, but cold. She smiled briefly, trying her hardest not to seem to eager to look at the man who was now unsurrounded. The Asset. But she just couldn't help the flick of her eyes as they looked from Fletcher to him back to Fletcher. The old man in front of her gave an airy chuckle before looking behind him and sliding his hands into his coat. "A wonder, isn't he? A real wonder," Fletcher spoke as he looked towatd the Asset. Inna didn't know how to respond, she didn't know how to feel. Everyone spoke about him as if he couldn't hear. With his head hung, he must have been pretending not to hear.

Inna didn't answer the question, but instead, slowly took step after step closer to him. She passed Fletcher, and he smiled to himself, taking her entranced stumble toward the Asset as a confirmation he was right, and she did find him a wonder.

"I'll leave you to it," Inna heard from behind her, as she continued her fixed gaze on him. "The engineers will be in shortly." With that, Fletcher left and Inna was alone with him. Soon, her feet had dared to venture right up to the figure. He was handsome. Incredibly so, with his shirt off, he was strong, firm. His long hair hung around his face just as it had in the headshot that sat on her bedside table at home. Without sleep, she had been left lookinh over it under the light of her lamp, getting used to the killer she'd have to face.

He wasn't here. There was no sign of the darkness the photo portrayed, but instead he looked worn down, and, just as he had in the first headshot, broken.

Without thinking, she reached out a hand, and let her fingers trail over the line where metal met flesh. His skin was covered in welts and a redness, it concerned Inna to no end, her medical textbooks of her past education throwing knowledge and facts about what she was looking at. Her hand moved it's way up his metal-flesh connection. She found herself about to cup his face, raise his head to meet his eyes, those eyes that held so much history, she just needed to see.

And then, she felt a sharp pain.

Her wrist was enclosed in icy cold, and the movement was so quick, it took her a minute to process what had happened. He had grasped her wrist so tight she thought it might crush under it's inhumane strength. She yelped, and let out a groan. She didn't dare move, in case it only make her situation far worse. All the while, his head was still bowed.

Through her teeth, Inna let in a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"Let go," she commmanded. She still felt the grip.

Louder still, she demanded once more. "LET. GO!" Her voice seemed a cry, and that instant, a team of men rushed in, having witnessed her dilemma. They all grappled his metallic limb, and he immeadiately let go. She gasped as she felt the release of pressure, and she cursed herself for being so stupid as to get so close.

"This is the new medic, she's here to help your recovery," the engineers voice was close to a yell. Inna held her arm close as she watched them, and they stepped away. He relaxed, and just kept on looking down, as he always did.

He slightly titled his head, and out came a deep, low voice.

"What about the others?"

"They're moving to a different division. They're none of your concern now."

He did not reply. He only kept his gaze to his lap.

Inna rubbed her wrist, and stepped toward him again.

"I'm sorry," she said to him, earning the surprised looks of all around her. Including him. His head snapped up to look at her, a frown on his face. She was the only person in 50 years to say such a thing. And he wasn't familiar. "I shouldn't have just touched you," she started, then turning to the engineers, "I was simply intrigued by his arm, I must have startled him, I'm sorry," she continued, before being waved off by the man beside her. He smiled and waved his hands in an apathetic manner.

"No, no if you wanted to check his body, you are allowed, this is an assessment after all. He is to obey you. No need to say sorry."

They all smiled and nodded, as if to reassure her. But all it did was make her feel worse. She turned back to him, with eyes that only had room for apologies.

"I am sorry," she said quietly, directly to him. The Asset.

"I will continue this tomorrow, we'll start it slowly. For now, make sure all is in order for us to be working alongside your team," she directed who she assumed to be the leader, and he nodded.

"Definitely. You go get some ice on that," he said, nodding his head to her wrist, now blooming in a red, hand-shaped welt. Inna nodded in agreement and smiled, before leaving the room.

The Winter Soldier watched her leave, and kept his eyes locked on the door long after she was gone and they had pushed him down into his seat.

70 years, and it was the first time he'd heard an apology for the way he was treated.


	5. Pathology

A new day, and what seemed like a new man. When Inna cautiously stumbled her way into the room they kept him within, he looked up at her, from inside the very same chair he been seated in yesterday. What seemed new to her, was not new at all. For she hadn't captured the way he looked at her yesterday, she had been too busy instructing the engineers and then leaving. Yesterday, she hadn't seen his light blue eyes, one's she could imagine have being full of life once, but now, were as if he'd been damned and he knew it. Nobody in the facility had any knowledge of who he was beforehand, except for Pierce himself. Not even Inna knew who he was, back in the 1940's. Those were files she would never find.

"Today, I'm just going to take a little blood, send it to the pathology department for testing, and also just check you in general," Inna spoke to him, being the only two in the room. She had been assured he would not hurt her again, and would obey her. She didn't want to think about the things they had to do to him just to make that clear.

The Asset looked her over, and his eyes stopped at the crisp, white bandage neatly and securely wrapped around her wrist. She had said it to him, and somewhere, deep inside, something was screaming at him to do the same. After all, she was only there to help, and she was being far kinder to him than anyone had the past few decades he'd been under their control.

He knew the words. They hadn't come out of his mouth…well… ever. Not that he could recall, any who. He never had the need to speak to anyone, other than mission reports and debriefings.

He knew the words. But he didn't say them. Instead, he pursed his lips and kept his eyes on her wrist, something she eventually noticed.

"Oh, right, yeah, I am truly sorry about yesterday. I know I'm supposed to be able to treat you as an Asset, as you're called, but, I find that a little hard. My father taught me a little more compassion than that," she smiled and chuckled at her own words, while dropping to her knees beside him and gently pushing his chest to sit up straight. "I'm just going to check your breathing, blood pressure, all the standard doctor stuff," she informed, as she plugged her ears with her stethoscope and, with a delicate hand, pressed the end to his chest, allowing her to hear the steady thumping of his ninety-something year old heart.

"You're in good condition for an old man," she mumbled to herself, with a laugh. The Asset had registered it as a shot at humour. He even thought it was a little smart. But he didn't laugh. Inna didn't know what she had been expecting, and she knew he wouldn't laugh. So instead, she gave him a brief smile before standing up. As she did, the buzzer to the door reached her ears and the sound of clanking mixed with the rolling of wheels was heard.

"The blood sample kit," Presley announced, and Inna's smile was taken from the Asset and given to Presley in turn, bright, accompanied by a nod.

"Thank you, Pres, is the antiseptic wipes and the tourniquet in there too?"

"Yeah, but I'll tell you, when the guards saw them, they were surprised. Did you know they never actually tourniqued him, or wiped him over once they were finished? Yeah, they just jabbed him till they found the right spot, took the blood and left. According to the guards, the older medics thought it was 'more efficient', and 'strengthened their dominance over him,'" Presley explained, as he took to the metal bench, setting up the needle she needed and glancing over at her every now and again while he spoke. He even dared to look at the Asset, in a way that suggested he was trying not to, but couldn't help himself. It would seem Presley's curiosity ran along the exact same vein as Inna's. He finished up the needle, and turned to the Asset, and Inna. He looked directly at the man, who intimidated Presley beyond compare of anyone he'd met in his short-lived life. But he dared to speak to him, as he too had been assured he would not be harmed by the assassin. "Pretty brutal stuff," was all Presley could say.

While Presley wouldn't admit it, he felt some sort of pity for him as well. He thought maybe he and Inna were the only ones in the whole of Hydra to think that way. He also thought that since it was only he, Inna and the Asset, showing a little of the sympathy he felt was nothing to be afraid of.

Inna thanked Presley, and took the metal trolley in the hands, wheeling it to beside the Asset.

"Do needles bother you?" she asked, out of habit. She caught herself straight after the question, and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. **_Stupid_** , she thought to herself, **_he's a bloody trained assassin, he's not going to worry about a silly_** **-**

"I don't love them."

Inna stopped, as if she had imagined the words. But she knew she hadn't because he was now shifted in his seat, facing away from her with his arm out for her. His voice, low and gruff, had confused her so much it took a minute for her to regain her thoughts.

"Right, okay. Do you…do you need me to restrain your arm? Would that be better for the both of us?" she questioned, as she stood there, looking down upon him with her hands intertwined, waiting for a response.

"Just do it," was all she got. She nodded a few times, followed by a short 'okay', and turned, taking the tourniquet and wrapping it around his incredulously large muscles. She was certain that if he tensed, it would snap and hit her in the head.

"Make sure you relax, it'll make it much easier to draw blood," she instructed, her eyes steady and focused on the crease of his arm. She wiped it over, and ever so carefully inserted the needle, quickly and smoothly taking a short amount of blood, and finishing up. As he kept looking away, the Asset spoke more.

"Do it!" he boomed, almost jolting Presley, who watched the whole scene, out of his skin. He was about to try his best to calm the man down, when Inna bet him to it.

"I have," she almost smirked, wiping his arm of blood and sticking it over with a band-aid, clipping off the tourniquet and dumping all of the objects onto the trolley. She rubbed her hands together, mentally organizing her plan of action and where she was to go from here, as the Asset just sat there, looking at his arm, and then her, and then his arm. He then looked to Presley apprehensively, and Presley just shrugged.

"When it's done properly, it's as if it wasn't done at all," he replied, his hands finding their way into his pockets and rocking on the heels of his feet. He then scrambled to get his hands _out_ of his pockets, as Inna stretched out to him with the vial of blood. "Oh, yes, of course I'll get that to the patho's right away," he stuttered out, temporarily forgetting that it was what he was there for. Inna thanked him, and as he left, she turned back to the Asset, and they were alone again. He was staring down in bewilderment at the crease of his arm, and flexing his hand. It must have hurt every time, they mustn't have cared all that much, if it surprised him so shockingly that blood tests didn't _have_ to hurt every time.

"Y'know, 'The Asset' is such a mouthful, I don't want to have to say, 'How are you feeling today, The Asset?' all the time, or when I'm talking to you. I might just call you Set. I hope you don't mind," Inna spoke with a clear voice, as if she was just speaking to a friend. She confused him beyond no end. First, she said sorry to him. Then, she was careful when taking what she needed. Now, she was giving him a nickname, as if he had need for one, and as if she would be speaking directly to him quite often.

"Set," she repeated to herself, in a hushed, low voice, testing the flow of the name on her tongue. "Yeah," a smile broke out, and Inna nodded to herself, satisfied with the name. A beeping could be heard, and while at first the sound put a frown on Inna's face, she realized it was her pager, and she took it from her back pocket to look at it's message.

"Alright, I'll see you later, I've got to go talk to director Pierce, see if we can move your holding room closer to the new medic center, it'd just be so much easier that way. Be back soon, Set," she informed, calling him by her very own custom nickname for it.

He would never admit it, he had no reason to. He had no one to admit it to.

But he liked it. It almost made him feel like he was _someone_.

Somewhere, deep down, buried under all the times he'd been told he had no place within himself for simple pleasures, and he was not alive for himself but for the work of others…

He took pleasure in a simple nickname.


	6. No Memories

A scream. So loud, so distinct, even when muffled. It was all Inna could hear. Her head was sent spinning, and she panicked. She'd only heard his voice very briefly, but she knew it was him. She knew it was the Asset. "Set?!" she had shouted, when first hearing the noise. Her worry was a mixture of things. Hearing him hurting was a worry in itself, but she was plagued with the thought of **_Oh god, we've been compromised, he's being murdered, Pierce is going to kill me if he's killed!  
_** After all, Set was her responsibility, or, at least she felt he was.

Throwing her papers onto the nearest bench, she rushed down the hall and toward the holding area. The guards were ready to stop her, but she simply unclipped and shoved her ID card in their hands, urging them to let her in with a shout. They did so, and the barred gate opened, as she pushed herself from the doorframe and tumbled into the room. Dishevelled, out of breath, she looked about frantically, while the pained, stomach gripping screams continued, accompanied by an electrical buzz.

"What are you doing, what's going on?!" She asked in a voice of high concern, looking about with eyes wide and almost scared, looking for answers. She was given such things by Pierce, who stepped forward from behind the several scientists gathered in the room, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know this will seem a little confronting, but this is the memory wipe process. It does hurt. But it's necessary if we want him to keep serving," Pierce explained in a comforting voice, as she straightened up and looked over his shoulder at Set, who was strapped in, straining against the restraints, and screeching through a mouthguard.  
"Oh," was all she could say, frowning, her mouth left agape. She nodded, rather quickly and continuously, replying further. "Yeah, right, I understand, sorry I just," she blurted out, placing one hand on her hip and the other wiping her nose. "I uh, thought he was being hurt or something, like, by enemy, I got worried," she admitted, not looking at Pierce but zoning out, her eyes not focused on anything or anyone, but awaiting further talk from her boss.

He laughed, and slapped his own stomach in amusement.  
"I see, well, I'm impressed, you got here rather quickly. Although, I'm quite certain you haven't seen him in action. 70 years and the enemy has never gotten a scream like that out of him," he chuckled, as if it were funny. Inna, only on the inside for fear of ill judgement from Pierce, shuddered. She was disgusted. 70 years and the enemy had never hurt him as much as he was hurt by the very people he worked for.

And then she caught herself. She frowned, and wondered to herself, lost in the space of her mind. Why was she so disgusted? Surely she hadn't expected anything else? To create a killer, they had to break him first. She didn't remember where she heard it. But she'd always known it to be true. The stories of the Winter Soldier had been ones she'd grown up with, and while she'd never been told his true purpose when she was a child, she had been let in on such things as time had passed, and understood them. Did she expect any less? Of course not. Why she was surprised was beyond her.

Composing herself, she smiled at the company she was with, and wiped her hands on the side of her lab coat.

"Sorry all," was all she said, before shaking her head once more and propping her head high, as well as her attitude, trying to come off as casual, simple, unaffected with what was happening merely metres from her. "Did he complete the mission last night, and if so would you like me to give him a check over?" she questioned, and Pierce looked to Set, then her, and nodded.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. The process should end in about three or so hours, after that you can patch him up with your medical team while the engineers check over his arm," he agreed, his hands on his hips, as he looked about the room and thought out his answer. With that, Pierce, and an entourage of others left the room. One, however, before leaving, approached Inna. He was, judging by his clothing, some sort of special ops, and in his rough, calloused hands, was a large, very menacing looking weapon.

"Don't let the screaming bother you too much, y'get used to it fairly quickly," he advised, in an attempt to be somewhat helpful. He gave her a gentle, friendly tap on the shoulder with the back of his hand, and she gave a struggle of a smile.

"Thanks…?"

"Rumlow," he filled in, before catching up to the rest of his team. Inna felt the need to leave the room too, when one more look at Set had her almost losing control of her breathing pattern.

"I'll be back in 3 hours," she told the staff in the room, as they all nodded and she pulled her eyes away from him, getting out of the room twice as fast as she had fallen in.

Three hours later, and her mind was tormented by the sound. Over and over again, on repeat, unable to press the stop button. There was no stop button. There was no silence, no mute. No. She was forced to hear it over and over on a loop that was never-ending. Her focus was a little more than just troubled.

"You okay Inna?" Presley's voice startled her out of her sluggish trance of slight work and a lot of repeated memory.

"What? Me? I'm okay, yeah, I just saw the wiping method they have for Set, it was a little terrifiying," she replied, waving off his worry and shaking her head in a dismissive state.

"Set?"

"Uh, yeah, I found 'The Asset,' to be too time consuming, so I shortened it," she explained, feeling her cheeks go red, embarrassment coursing through her veins. She stared at her computer screen to avoid eye contact with Presley, knowing she'd only turn three shades a darker red if she did. It seemed so childish, to nickname a killer, an assassin, a trained and weaponized murderer, and only when she had been called out on it did she realize.

"Inna..." Presley started, shifting uncomfortably, looking away and biting his lip, trying to find the right words to string together the sentence he wanted. "Be careful. Once you start getting attached, you start caring. Once you start caring, you find it hard to fulfil the tasks you're supposed to, and once you stop doing that, Hydra has no need for you," he warned. "You go naming him, giving him a sense of identity, they won't like it. You'll find yourself liking him a lot more than they want you to."  
Inna couldn't deny the truth every word of his held. She sighed and rested her chin on her folded arms on her desk.

"You're right," she pouted slightly, thinking herself only naïve and silly. "I just thought it'd be easier, is all."  
Presley took in a deep breath, and held it for a bit, looking about and thinking it over to himself. But, finally, a smile started to slowly form, then completely broke out.

"Y'know, it could catch on. 'Set.' You're definitely right, it's easier than 'The Asset,' all the time. I think I'll call him that too, that way it definitely will catch on," he promised, patting the surface of her bench and pointing at her, before leaning back into a retreat toward the door, so he could get on with his own work.  
"Why, because you're such a trend setter?" she bantered, and he let out a laugh, mixed with the playful coo of surprise.  
"You've got a smart mouth on you Inna, did you learn that in Russia?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he backed through the door.  
"You're so easy to make fun of, did you learn that in Alaska?" she retorted, with a laugh of her own. "Go on, get to work, I've got to check on Set anyway, it's been about three hours and he's due for a patch up. In fact, you're coming with me," Inna said with a finality about her voice, getting up from her chair, crossing the room and pushing Presley through the door with her. "The engineers will be there working on his arm."

"You know, I wonder if he'll remember us, or if they just wipe it all," Presley curiously spoke out into the empty air, not to Inna in particular, but more to anyone who would listen, Inna just happened to be the only one there.  
"I think he would remember, he seemed to remember the other medics. It would be terribly inconvenient. Besides, how would they make him obedient to people he doesn't even remember?" she tossed about the idea, and Presley clicked his fingers, pointing his finger repeatedly, catching onto her point.  
"Touché, very true."  
The both of them then wandered the hall in silence, readying themselves to see for the very first time, the post-wiped Set.


	7. Some Memories

"Scissors," Inna instructed, as one of the medical assistants turned to the large metal table beside her and took a small pair, handing them to Inna, who's eyes were focused on the stitched up wound to Set's side. He sat within the same menacing looking chair as always, looking straight ahead through damp locks of sweat-ridden hair, and waiting for all those who surrounded him to finish their jobs promptly. Inna worked on the largest wound, while her colleagues worked on those of a lesser degree. Even then, when working on the worst of the wounds, it wasn't that bad at all. Inna couldn't imagine just how skilled he was to have both completed a mission so early, without having been dealt too much damage. But she couldn't dwell on those thoughts, as she was busy fixing up Hydra's number one weapon.

She snipped the end of her stitching, and proceeded to gently start to lay a medical patch over the wound, smoothing its edges down so it firmly stuck in place, and stepping back to both view her own handiwork, and check up on the progress of others. They too were complete, as were the engineers.

"Okay, I think that's him done," Inna sighed, hands on her hips, biting her lip in thought.

"We'll get the scientists in, get him into cryo," the head engineer replied, and Inna stiffened up, as did Set.

"Cryo? You mean they freeze him after every mission?" She asked, her grip on her coat tightening. They were going to seal him away, suspend him into a state devoid of time, of interaction. She didn't know if she was more concerned for him or herself, and while she knew she had people around her to converse with, his lack of presence, when thought about, seemed like an emptiness of company. She didn't even know why.

"Yeah, after every mission, unless he's left out too long, in that case they'll just wipe him," the engineered replied nonchantly, and Inna replied much the same.

"Okay, well get them in," she agreed, putting on her best face, not revealing any hint of distress at the facts laid before her.

She waited until the engineers had left, and offered to clean up the medical area, as to only have a little more time with him, to talk to him, and understand him.

"Does it scare you?" She asked, when they were finally without prying eyes and listening ears.

No reply.

She nodded, and continued to speak.

"It scares me. At least, the idea of it. It must get so cold," she mumbled, as her hands busily packed away all the tools away. She kept her eyes locked on her hands, trying not to look at him. As if looking at him would cause her to do something irrational, like let him out, lead him away from his destined solitude of the frozen prison he was to be locked in once again.

"I guess I'll see you when you get back out-" concluded Inna, or, started to, when she heard that same deep, pained voice.

"Used to. They would say the word 'Cryo' and I would be afraid. It's a stinging feeling, when it gets cold enough, then nothing," Set explained briefly, the tone in his voice rushed, as if he wasn't to be speaking, and he was out of line. Maybe he was. Maybe she shouldn't have been provoking him. But she couldn't help her curiousity for the man with the metal arm, a curiousity in which surpassed her very being and spread through every corner of her life, already.

"It doesn't scare you anymore?"

There was a pause between question and answer. He was contemplating whether to reply. He shouldn't have been speaking about such small matters, insignificant things. It didn't matter if it scared him, it was necessary. Yet he felt compelled to speak still, as she was only there to help him, and while his personal details were non-existent, and his feelings about anything and everything were a mere breeze that came and went without regard, she had asked, and so he would reply with honesty.

"No. Not anymore. It scares me more when they strap me into the chair. I don't know why. I panic."

Of course he didn't know why. It's when they wiped his memory. Hurt him. He wasn't supposed to know. He wasn't supposed to remember.

"Whenever they do, I have a memory. Just one. A feeling. Pain," he said, and with that, he spoke no more. He shut his mouth tight and did not allow himself to utter another word.

Inna dared not turn to him, in fear of him seeing the shock, and the tears that coarsed down her cheeks.

He did remember. At least, he partially remembered. All he could remember was pain. She had her fists balled up upon the metal table, and her head hung. She made no sound. They treated him as if he didn't feel.

But he did.

They treated him as if he were not human.

But he was.

His humanity had never hit Inna as hard as it did that moment in time.

Wiping her eyes, she quickly brushed her hands over her coat and turned, not looking directly at him. She needed to gain her distance from him. Something inside her made her want to protect him, and that was dangerous, for her at least. He was in no danger. They could clear him of his memory and not be fussed. Her, however? She was completely disposable.

"Okay," was all she could say. At least with his freezing, they would be seperated. She would teach herself to be uncaring, down her sympathies for him and hide it away. It was the only way she'd get through having to help him for the next few years to come.

Without care, without distraction, and without the strange pull toward him, in which she could not place her finger on.


	8. New Mission

Pity. It was a deep, burning sense of pity for Set and a longing for a life she knew he must have deserved. The life he must have had stripped away from him decades ago. It was a pity that derived her of sleep, as she lay in bed awake, thinking only of the Winter Soldier, who was at that moment in time, appropriate to his name, in a frozen state of form. There was something within her, an urge, a need, to find out exactly who he had been. Where had they gotten him? What was his life?

She never would. It was a fact she had come to terms with even when she was a child, tucked snuggly in bed by the hands of her father, told the story of a man without name, but with purpose.

She held some sort of care for the man. It was nothing short of a firelit curiosity, that turned into a flame of wonder.

There was no other way she could explain why she thought of him so often. The lost hope of the broken man that had sat before her was vastly different to the tough man she had been told she would face. Had he been the same man, she surely would not have had him on her mind at such an early hour in the morning.

The next few weeks, he would be in his own world of suspended animation. His own biological prison, sealed away until his next mission. It came sooner than Inna thought it would, only months after his freezing. In those months, Inna had simply done research on him, on his body. His past injuries, places to watch for and keep an eye on, his abnormalities that were caused by the serum they had given him all those decades ago. She spent nights in her office, pouring over document after doccument, until there was nothing else to read. Unknown to her, she had not read all the documents in Hydra's possession, detailing The Winter Soldier. She hadn't found a single scrawling on the man he used to be.

The day arrived in which Set was to be freed from his cryo-freeze, and released for his next mission. Inna continued the usual routine of the day, readying herself for work, arriving early, and curling up in her desk chair, a hot tea hugged in her hands, her knees up, still sleepy but ever so slowly reaching the point of wake. While sitting there, tucked within the small space her chair allowed, her office door opened, and while made of glass, she had not noticed the figure that seeked her out.

"Knock knock, Inna?" A deep, solid voice sounded out, confident of itself, as the owner of it was.

Inna jumped, and upon recognition of the face, scrambled to greet him, abandoning her tea on the desk and crossing the room. She held out a hand as she approached, a wide, welcoming smile taking her lips.

"Thomas! Did you get back in last night?" Inna asked as he took her hand. Much to her surprise, however, he pulled her into a hug, with a chuckle and a tight grip.

"I missed you so much! Do you know what it's like having a second in charge that needs a translator?! I appreciate your English so much more!" Thomas boomed out in joke, letting her go, only to take her shoulders and shake her in a mock urgency. Inna, who's shock dissolved into a smile and a laugh, was unsurprised. Thomas was, if anything, dramatic.

"They should have sent me. You know, the Russian. To Russia," was her reply, earning another lot of laughs from Thomas and the clutching of his own head, as if in frustration.

"Right?! I mean, we have a perfectly great Russian speaker who is practically in charge anyway, and they send the least Russian person they could find, just because my title is a one up from yours!" He groaned, dragging his hands over his face, his words a temporary muffle, before they settled on his cheeks.

"But no, I actually got in this morning. There was a car waiting for me, brought me straight here."

"Straight here?" Inna frowned, after a small gasp. "You came straight to work from the airport?!"

"Yep. My guess is they wanted me around for The Asset's next unfreezing, since I wasn't around to see the last one."

Inna's heartbeat thumped uncomfortably within her chest, as if climbing up her throat. She could do nothing but freeze, and look not to Thomas, but turn away, and respond.

"That's today?" She asked, her heartbeat seemingly halting within her chest as she replied. Thomas however, did not notice the nervousness in her voice, as he leaned against her desk and shrugged.

"Yep, he's got a mission coming up soon apparently, they wanna prep him. Pierce greeted me at the airport himself."

Whenever Pierce was involved, it had to mean something was of significance. Inna's guess was that it was a mission he really needed seen through, and that he wanted it to be made certain that whoever he needed gone, would be definitely and undeniably gone.

"Must be pretty serious," Inna mumbled, pretending to focus on sorting out the oapers that scattered over her desk, when her true thoughts were only upon Set. On seeing him once more, after months of his iced encasement.

Thomas had a pause on his lips, as if unable to decide whether his next words would be spoken or not.

Finally, though, he found it within himself to say the words, knowing he could trust no one more than Inna.

"Fury."

"...F...Fury?!"

"He's suspicious of S.H.I.E.L.D. Pierce wants to be safe and get rid of him. You know what Fury's like," Thomas said in a low voice. Inna nodded hastily in agreement, though she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of sadness. She somewhat looked up to Nick and the effort he put into his work, but also pitied him. He put everything he could into S.H.I.E.L.D, and never even knew it wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D at all, but Hydra all along. It was as if a cruel joke was being played on him and everyone knew but him. Had he been an agent of Hydra, Inna did not doubt he would be stationed above even Pierce himaelf.

"When is he being released? The Asset..." Her next question came in almost a whisper, as she looked to the side, at Thomas through large blue eyes and wisps of her dark hair.

Thomas glanced quickly at his watch.

"Right about now actually."

Inna was ready. More than ready. She needed to see him again.

"Well then...let's go shall we?"


	9. The Cold Room

He was released. He was conditioned. He was made to be complient. And Inna was there for every second of it. She heard him scream, as they cleared his memory. She watched him lose a litte bit of himself each and every time that electrical buzz filled the room. She stood straight, and never wavered, never cringed. Yet, within, she was screaming too. Screaming at herself to stop them, screaming at them to stop. She came to the conclusion, quite quickly, that maybe she had never been up for the caring of The Asset at all. She may have been a doctor but the pure screeches of pain and suffering were not something she was taught to accept as a normal part of the job. Even as a member of Hydra, her environment had been tame, free of such things.

Now she was thrust right in the centre of it all, and it was tearing her apart whenever the sound reached her ears.

Finally, she heard the words from his mouth they had been waiting to hear.

"Ready to comply," he was brief and his voice was dark, deep, and as sinister as the wild look in his eyes.

All of a sudden, it hit Inna all at once, came crashing down and toppled over her.

Those photos, that headshot that scared her so much. It WAS him. It was the him they made him to be. It was the Winter Soldier. She felt her heart pound within her head and she felt as though a simple breeze would send her crumbling. She had projected the image of the victim on him so long she never thought about the side of him that HAD victims. The side that killed.

As they finished, Thomas stepped forward, Inna mirroring his movements. Before Thomas was able to do his job, Set was spoken to by Pierce.

"Mission brief, I want Nicholas J. Fury gone, in and out, standard assassination. Forty eight hours at most" That was all Pierce had to say. After that, he left the room, and the Medic team was expected to get on with their duties.

"Check over his vitals, his body, I want reports ASAP," Thomas instructed, having let go of all playful quips and witty remarks, now down to his serious manner. It was obvious, when witnessing him in the surgery and holding room, why he was made Head of Medical Division.

Inna did as she was told, directing the other workers on where to check, as she listened for his heart. She briefly looked to his eyes, but they were hidden beneath sweaty strands of long dark hair, and looked directly in front of him.

Once all medical staff had reported their findings- abnormalities, none- Thomas nodded and scribbled it down in a large notebook, that was falling apart, contained yellowed pages, and all of his medical reports since their finding of him all those decades ago.

"Inna, can I get you to take him to the gears and weapons room?" He asked casually as he scrawled his report down, only looking down at his clipboard. Inna stopped, and froze.

"I'm not authorized to take him to weapons though," she mumbled, with a frown on her face. Thomas looked up to her and smiled assuringly.

"It's fine, Pierce trusts you well enough, and there are guards around the perimetre of the weapons room so youll be fine," he said briefly. All Inna could do was nod, and as she went to turn to Set, he was already behind her. She let out a small shriek, but quickly stifled it with the tips of her fingers.

"Sorry," she almost squeaked, before turning back and hurriedly walking out of the room and toward weapons. Truth be told, she'd never been to the weapons area, and only been in military or special ops areas for reasons like fixing the Special Ops Squad after rough missions.

She followed her gut instict, walking down a hallway she thought to be the right one. Yet, upon walking a few metres down that very hall, the footsteps behind her ceased, or rather, became distant. She turned only to find Set had not turned with her, and she panicked to make her way back. He knew his way. He was not stopping, nor dealing with her lack of navigation. She caught up to him, though she supposed for a moment maybe he'd be okay on his own. Her pace was set behind his, and she dared not speak, and she dared not breath, for her mind was still locked in the state it had been when she saw him freshly wiped, newly made, completely blank of care and reason. Upon arrival at the weapons room, the two were greeted by security either side of the thick steel door. It was the smaller of weapons rooms in the military area, and so it was not so heavily guarded compared to it's other rooms of similar use. But that was certainly not to say it wasn't at all heavily guarded.

Inna, as they approached, delicately and nimbly weaved her way around Set, and he watched her as she did, coming from around him, behind him, to standing before him in an instant. He was, only in the slightest, impressed, and considered her to have the makings of a somewhat skilled assassin, had she been trained in such things. Yet, she was too reserved, to calm, to ever hold such a violence, and would never be the assassin other pathways of life could have made her to be.

Inna scanned her ID card and the two entered into the room, pure white, with a light inside that gave the whole room a blue hue. It was cold, and reflected the nature of the objects inside. Inna assumed he'd used them all, she assumed they were all honoured with a kill count of at least one. There were large weapons, small weapons. She was not afraid of them. Guns and bombs and knives intrigued her from the youngest of ages, as they were filled with a power she'd never known, and at younger ages, didn't quite understand.

Set, however, got straight to work. He picked up guns, he put down guns, and toward the corner, hung a leather jacket, bare of a sleeve. As he checked guns and made his decisions, Inna decided to retrieve the jacket, taking it from it's hook and walking back down the aisle of shelves to Set. With it slung over her shoulder, she dared not disturb him, until his dark eyes eventually caught her own, and she held it out for him. He set down the gun in his left hand, and his metal one came forward to take the coat. But upon reaching out, Inna felt the brush of cold metal against her arm and jerked back, dropping the jacket, her arms outstretched to her sides, also accidently clattering and knocking over the knives that had been stashed neatly to her right.

"Shit," she gasped, fumbling to crouch down and scoop up all the knives, putting them back were they belonged. She looked at the hand he had accidentally touched, at the sickly yellow bruise that faded around her wrist. She hadn't meant such a reaction, but nor could she help it. When she stood back up, dusting herself off, Set already had his coat on, and his weapons were selected. Sitting on the shelf beside him were his choices, as well as a muzzle, and another coat. In a small jar, he wiped two fingers inside and rubbed his eyes, coating them darkly, sihllouetting his bright blue eyes.

Noticing the top of his jacket wasn't secured quite correctly, Inna waited until he was complete with his stealth camo before she slowly, cautiously reached out and began to fasten it as it should be.

"Set."

Inna stopped for a moment.

"What?"

"You called me Set. You're my medic."

"...Y-...Yes, that's correct." Her words came delayed by the shock of his speaking to her.

"Are you afraid of me?"

The question, so seemingly innocent, yet delivered so abruptly, so darkly, had Inna stopped now completely.

She composed herself before continuing to do as she intended.

"I am afraid of you," she started, finishing up his button. She looked to him, finally allowing her eyes to meet with his. "But only sometimes."

"I did that?" Set asked gruffly, looking to her wrist.

"A lifetime ago. I'm fine now," she muttered, her voice in a gentle tone. She too looked to her wrist and the fingertips of her opposite hand traced faint lines over the hand-shaped marks, barely visible, now months old.

"Good," was all he responded, before taking his jacket in one arm, securing his knife, and grasping his gun. As he left the room, two more guards greeted him, and he led their way. Inna did not follow, but watched him leave.

Somehow, within his short sentences and deep voice, Inna was no longer afraid.

Somehow.


	10. Gone So Long

He would be gone for over three weeks. His mission seemed never ending. Pierce kept in contact with Thomas, to update him on when he would need to prepare for the Assett's return. Thomas would relay this news to Inna, not necesaarily as her boss, but in casual conversation, with her and Presley.

"So he did it, huh? Damn," Presley nodded with crossed arms. "What now?"

"Now," Inna started, as she looked out the nearby window with arms crossed and her top teeth tugging at her lower lip. "Now Pierce puts someone else in Fury's place. Most likely Hyrda. That's all I can think would happen at this moment," she frowned slightly as she delivered her thoughts. They were not her true thoughts. Her true thoughts were hooked on the idea that maybe they had Set doing something else. What they could have him doing, she didn't know. Why else would he be gone so long? And as for the replacement of Fury, Inna could only assume Pierce would give it to someone close. Her guess was Sitwell. He was almost Pierce's second in command. Inna was lost in the swirlimg hurricane of wonder almost all day.

Until, that was...

"Director Pierce," Inna announced in half confusion, half greeting. She had stood from her desk and pushed aside her papers as her higher-in-command entered through her glass office door and shoved both hands in his grey pant pockets.

"Inna, I need you to head down to the S.H.I.E.L.D and wander among the medics there, you won't be needed here for a little while so it's best to put you where you're useful," he said, straight to the point, as his own thoughts clustered his focus and he looked around her small office.

Inna only nodded, and straightened herself out, ready to leave the base immeadiately.

As she walked out the doors, a black car with tinted windows was waiting for her, and she entered it, not asking questions, just following orders.

Before long, she was among the medics of S.H.I.E.L.D, and looking directly up at an image of Steve 'Captain America' Rogers. Her eyes scanned his features, taking note of the most subtle of things, like his eyes, and his stance. The strength in his shoulders, and the slight stubble that ran along his chin. It reminded her of Set, and his jaw, scattered with stubble only shaved days ago. Her mind would wander to him often, wondering when he'd be back, what new injuries he would acquire, especially after such a long time. The talking around Inna was just noise.

"With all due respect, if S.H.I.E.L.D is conducting a manhunt for Captain America we deserve to know why," rang out a clear voice, that captured Inna's attention. A strong, blonde woman stood tall and in question, her hands on her hips. She was everything Inna wished she could be. She must have been a field worker, an agent. Inna then turned to Sitwell, expecting an answer, but what she seeked did not come from Sitwell, but from behind her, from the same voice she'd heard only hours ago.

"Captain Rogers has information regarding the death of Director Fury. Refused to share it. As hard as it is to accept...Captain America is a fugitive from S.H.I.E.L.D."

Inna could feel the swell of tension that captured the room with those few words. She could see it among the faces around her, the surprise. And yet she could recognize those who were, in fact, part of Hydra. Those who knew exactly why the Captain America would be a fugitive. He was Hydra's biggest threat, and had been since the 1940's. Inna, however, suspected something else. The 'information' Captain Rogers had, she assumed, was information of Fury's killer.

Fury's killer was Set.

Therefore, not only would Steve Rogers had seen him, but would be after him.

Inna's heart beat uneasily within it's confines of her rib cage, and thought after thought poured in and flooded her head. If anyone was a possible match in strength for Set, Steve Rogers was the one. Inna worried for Set, and his ability to be able to fight off the Super Human Soldier. While he, too, had undergone treatment with the same serum Rogers had, there was no telling what damage the two of them would inflict upon one another.

The crowd of people within the headquarters started to move, and so, Inna moved. She went with the flow of people, she did as they did. She blended, the enemy within. She kept her head low and conversed with those around her, other medics that considered her an ally, a colleague, even a friend.

As she worked with the S.H.I.E.L.D medics, and they worked on the agents that had only recently come back from a low-key mission in Siberia, she felt her pager buzz, and unhooled it from her pocket, taking a glance at it. It was a calll from Pierce, to meet him at in his office. She bit her lip in anticipation.

Could it be...

"Call from Director Pierce, you take over for me," Inna instructed, as she strode out the room and made her way down various halls and elevators.

Her heart could have beat right through her chest.

And all she wanted was news on Set.


	11. Back to Back Missions

She was sat within the leather black chair that looked toward Pierce's desk, where he leaned upon it and faced both Inna, and various others. Not only was Inna joined by Thomas, but by various others, none of which she knew the names of, but by their outfits, she could tell divisions. Something she DID know about them all, however, is that they belonged to the underlying current of Hydra agents that were lurking within the shadows of S.H.I.E.L.D. She had seen every one of them at least once within the Hydra base. She could match a memory to each face, just not a name.

"I'll need full watch on Steve Rogers, anyone hears anything about him, sees him, I want to know," Pierce was firm in his words and it caused Inna to involuntarily nod in response, even though she wasn't the one being spoken to.

"Inna, Thomas, you two will be needed in the MedBay."

Inna knew what this meant. Pierce worded it in such a way that should his office be bugged, or watched, it would seem normal of them. Though he had his own private office, you could never be too careful in a world where lies and secrets where the main currency. The world they lived in, the world of S.H.I.E.L.D, of Hydra, was exactly that. No, what Pierce really meant, rather than going to S.H.I.E.L.D's Medbay, which seemed fairly normal, was that they were to go back to Hydra base and ready for Set's return. Inna had been taught how to recognize these codes since she was an early Hydra member. The way Pierce looked directly at them, Inna, Thomas, to the other agents in the room, confessed that his intentions were Hydra based. He wanted them to be ready to examine Set once more, as usual.  
To this, Inna's nod was voluntary.

"Asset, coming in," one guard declared, as the team of medical assistants and engineers all let their eyes collectively watch the doorway. Waiting to see him, the dangerous weapon in the form of a man.  
He walked in and Inna suddenly forgot how to breathe. Her lungs held the little breath they had in them, until she realized she was doing it and discreetly, hastily got back to breathing as normal.  
All she could wonder was why. She wasn't afraid of him, was she? Surely not. She'd been so close to him so many times, and he hadn't hurt her as of yet. Still, the unpredictable nature of The Winter Soldier was something she didn't feel she could tread to lightly around. He could snap at any point. He could forget her at any point. She just never knew.  
"Inna, they'll need to do a mission report before we can do anything so while they do, could you go and get all the paperwork done, and the medical logs checked? Thanks," Thomas said, after pulling her aside. She couldn't hear much of what he was saying, her eyes were too busied with the sight of the security guards ridding him of his jacket, his shirt, his undershirt, and then pushing him to sit down in his usual chair. But she pulled herself back to reality and nodded. "Can do."  
Could she? She didn't know. She didn't want to leave his side. But she had to.

Inna somehow willed her legs to move, and they carried her all the way to Thomas' desk, where all the necessary paperwork was stored away. It was more than she last saw, the pile thicker in her hands. All Set's paperwork had once resided in her office, but was moved when Thomas' came back from Russia. She flopped all the paper onto his desk, and spread it out as to get a closer look at what she was to be filling out. But her eyes settled upon a photo. It was him. Set. In cryostasis. His hair was so much shorter than it was now. The other photos of him, his headshots, sat beside the new addition. Inna took it in her fingers and delicately looked at it. The yellowing edges made it look as if too rough of a handling would send it crumbling into pieces. It had to be decades old. Inna slowly and gently return the photo in its place underneath the paperclip, eager to get back to Set, wanting to check him over and make sure he was alright.

She worried for him, in a way she knew was strange, and discouraged by Hydra. She felt something towards him, akin to a friendship. She could hardly call it that, he rarely spoke, and not often to her. But she could tell he trusted her, and that was all she really needed.

Inna sat down in Thomas' chair, and scribbled down everything that needed to be logged; the time he came in, the date, etc. She leaned on one hand and let the pen scrawl across the page, and the next, and the next, finally signing the log and scooping up all the paperwork. She was just about to slide them back into Thomas' draw, when she caught glimpse of a word. It was between pages, in small writing, it was a wonder she had even seen it. But as the pages fluttered together and settled in their pile, she couldn't find it again, and so she did her best to put it out of her mind. If it was so important, surely it would be in a much bigger font.  
Quickly erasing the word from her mind, she put the folder of pages upon pages away in Thomas' draw and exited his office, locking it with her ID card and hurriedly making her way back to the medcentre.

"There you are, ready to give the examination?" Thomas turned with a smile at her return, and Inna nodded toward Set.  
"Is the mission report all done?"  
"Done and dusted," Rumlow replied before Thomas could, and Inna gave a polite smile.  
"In that case, let's do it."

They did their medical examination, as the engineers worked on his arm. However, as soon as they were done, the guards started redressing him.  
"Wait, what's happening?" Inna asked Thomas, her voice hushed, and she thought she was somewhat quiet, until her answer came from a mouth other than Thomas'.  
"Pierce has asked to see him, another mission," Rumlow disclosed to Inna's curiosity, and Inna returned the answer with a frown.  
"So quickly?"

"Sometimes his missions are back to back, there's a lot our Asset here needs to do," Rumlow continued, seemingly proud, as if Set was a newly polished weapon. It made Inna's stomach turn, but she kept her face straight and the dainty, polite smile on her lips never fell. If it did, she was sure she would punch Rumlow. There was something about him she couldn't bring herself to like. Instead, she stood there, listening to his words and internally cursing at him, before finishing up her duty and stealing one last glance at Set, before he was ushered away to see Pierce, and be given his next mission.  
Inna could swear, for a slight second, that he looked back at her.

"He's been asked to take out two people, Natasha Romanoff," Thomas explained as the two of them walked down the hall, alone, toward Thomas' office.  
"And Sitwell."  
"Wait, what?! Why Sitwell?" Her confusion erupted in a loud gasp and question, before she could stop herself. She immediately hushed herself and checked to see If anyone had noticed. There was no one to be seen.  
"Apparently he gave information to Romanoff, after she threatened him. So, they both have to go."  
"Information about?" Her mind chanted in an annoying and pleading cry 'Please not Set, Please not Set, Please not Set.' If Natasha Romanoff had gotten information on Set, then she would have the means to find him, and kill him. While previously, Inna had thought Captain America was the only match for Set, she realized that the infamous Black Widow also stood a fighting chance against the Winter Soldier. Inna didn't like the thought at all.  
"Project Insight," Thomas eased Inna's thoughts with only those two words.  
"Well, with them gone at least Hydra will be safe from interference," Inna said apathetically, shrugging and looking at Thomas for a reply.  
"Well, that we know of. Now if the Asset could get rid of Captain America, THEN we'd be safe from interference," Thomas joked, nudging Inna's arm, and the two of them continued forward down the long hallways, talking, while Inna's thoughts were only on Set. Her mind returned to the word she'd seen in Thomas' papers, the papers about Set, but she was quick to throw the thought away, and return to thinking of just him.  
Just Set.

Hey guys, sorry this chapter took so long and isn't very good, I just couldn't find a way to lead into my next chapter and it was eating me up! But now that I've got this out...get ready for the good stuff...


	12. Falling Apart

He was dragged in by guards, and Inna was alone in the MedBay when she was greeted by the sight. Set, his arms hauled by two guards, with two more trailing behind, pushing him along, after being gone only 48 hours.  
"I suggest you leave, he isn't in the mood for strangers," one of the guards gruffly barked at her, and she scowled at him in anger.  
"I'm not a stranger, I'm his medic. Leave him there and I'll tend to him," she spat back while pointing to his usual chair, as they dumped him and left, assumedly to alert the other Medics and Engineers that he had returned. Inna wet a cloth and approached him, instantly getting to work wiping him down, ready to be checked over. She pressed the cloth to his head, and the moment the cool fabric came into contact with his skin, she felt his grasp around her wrist. She was sent into a panic, ready to pull away, before realizing his grip was not firm, but quite the opposite, and he was more so holding her to capture her attention, rather than a sign of aggression.  
"There was a man," he mumbled, not looking at her. He didn't need to look at her, he could feel her eyes on him, watching his every movement.  
"On the bridge, during the mission, there was a man. He knew me. I…I knew him."  
It wasn't possible. He wasn't supposed to remember anything, let alone a man on the bridge. What man, for that matter. Sitwell? Of course he would remember Sitwell, he was a leading figure in Hydra. If not Sitwell, then wh-  
"I remember things. I remember…me…falling. I remember his shield," Set interrupted Inna's thoughts, seemingly focused on his own.  
Shield? That could only mean…Captain America. And it all made sense to Inna, as Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers were known to have had a mission together not so long ago, and were both close to Fury, so of course they would be together at this point. But…how did Steve Rogers know the Winter Soldier…?  
Then, so suddenly it made Inna jump, he clutched his head and let out a growl, a screech, a moan. Her eyes widened and she gasped in horror, as the memories he was having seemed to rip through his brain and cause him some sort of pain.  
"SET! Set hey, hey, hey its okay. Set? Set! Listen to me, hey, shhhh, its okay," Inna tried her best to comfort him, taking his head in her hands and lifting his head to look at her. Her small hands were placed over his, and he moved his own so they were reversed, and his own large hands enveloped hers as they held his head solidly to look up into her eyes, to focus on her, to breathe in and out properly and rid him of his panicked and pained state. It gave him some sort of comfort, to have her eyes to look in, something he knew, something familiar that he could make sense of. She was his medic, and he knew that. He knew her, and she was a common denominator in the equation of his life. The memories of her were fresh and untouched, and it was a source of comfort as his mind threw new- or old- memories at him, memories that confused the hell out of him.  
Inna looked into his blue eyes and was shocked by what she saw. Tears. Actual tears, that threatened to spill over and streak down his coarse cheeks.  
Inna wanted nothing more than to hug him. Her empathy was her downfall in the world that surrounded her, and the world he lived in. He had no such thing, and he was rid of all empathy. But her? She was not a killer. She was only a medic. And her caring nature caused her to want to comfort her patient more than anything, because it was her job to alleviate his pain, as his medic. Emotional pain, though unexpected, was also part of the job.  
"He called me Bucky," Set explained, his eyes darting from between her own. He couldn't focus, so he blurted out whatever was on his mind, and let her listen, as she wanted to do. "Not just on the bridge, but on a train. I fell, he…he reached for me, I think? It was cold. Then…Zola…I remember Zola, and…" he was piecing together bits of scattered memory, and all Inna could do was look into his eyes and let him tell his recounts. Listen.

He was out of line. He shouldn't have been telling her. He shouldn't have been revealing to her these things. He didn't even fully understand them himself. And he knew he shouldn't trust anyone. He was taught not to. Yet for all the times she'd patched him up, and the unusual…care, she had for him, the gentle nature of her touch, so different from past medics, it caught him off guard, and shook him into a temporary trust for her, especially in this moment. His mouth didn't seem to stop, as he recounted the things he was remembering, in pain, in confusion, in horror.  
All until they heard footsteps.  
And he stopped, completely still, his eyes flicking toward the doorway in sheer terror.  
Inna did the same, and looked toward the doorway with a frown, knowing their time alone was to be cut short, and that he would reveal no more to her, even though there was so much more she wanted to know. Why did Steve call him 'Bucky?' How did he know Set? What was going on?  
"Inna."  
He used her name for the very first time, and it sounded so odd, so strange coming out of his lips in his deep voice, that Inna wasn't sure he had really said it at first. But she looked at him, and his eyes were locked onto her once again.  
"What is it?"  
"Don't let them do it," he mumbled, looking back at the door in worry, and then, suddenly taking both her wrists and shaking them, looking toward her pleadingly.  
"Don't let them do it, it hurts, when they put me under, it hurts so goddamn much, DON'T LET THEM!" his words started a mere beg, but progressively got louder and louder. In seconds he was shouting and shaking her, despite her attempts to hush him.  
"Set shh, Set!" She whispered aggressively, only out of fear those who were close approaching would quicken their pace to see what was going on. Inna pulled free one of her hands and clamped it over Set's mouth, leaning in close, and resting her forehead against his, her eyes wide, not nearly as wide as his though, full of surprise at her actions. He didn't know what to make of them, no one had ever gotten so close before. She looked at him with serious eyes, her proximity strengthening the seriousness of the situation.  
"Keep quiet. I promise I'll try and figure out what's going on in your mind. For now, just try to be calm okay? Just try," her whispers were quick, hurried, as she heard the oncoming steps of her colleagues. Her other wrist twisted a bit, a signal for him to let go, in which he complied to.  
With that, Inna wiped his forehead once more, and stood up slowly, being very careful when releasing his mouth. When she did, he kept it shut. Not a word was uttered from his lips. Instead, he sat back, looking up at her as she wiped the dirt and sweat from his brow, and then letting his eyes settle past her, and fade into a state of unfocused stare, as he dwelled upon his thoughts, and the two of them acted natural. At the door, her fellow medics and a few engineers bustled in to get to work, and Inna exchanged one last promising glance with Set before he was surrounded, and she stepped away to get ready to do her job as efficiently as possible.


	13. I Knew Him

She stiffened up completely. She couldn't move, or hardly even breathe, and she maintained a distance from him. From Set. Bucky.  
She didn't know what to call him anymore.

She watched with eyes that burned in anticipation, as the other engineers and medics helped up their knocked colleague. Guns were quick to be pointed, and Director Pierce had seemingly walked n just in time. She had heard the familiar voice of Presley as he warned that Set was 'unstable' and 'erratic', but Pierce had entered anyway, simply strode past Presley and straight into the facility. Just after Set had begun to let his anxiety loose, as his memories continued to assault him, and ended up beating down one of the engineers. All he had to do was swing his metal arm and the poor man was sent flying into the bank-disguised walls of one of the many Hydra bases. Set wasn't fazed though, he stared straight ahead. He allowed himself one glance, that was all. One glance at Inna, who had helped calm him previously. It worked somewhat now, looking at her, although without her words of comfort, he still felt the pain and the confusion of decades of a life gone by. The memories throttled his brain around and he couldn't help the beads of sweat that ran down his skin. Inna's eyes were on him at all times, until she heard the gruff and abrupt voice of Pierce demand what he needed to know.  
"Mission report."

Set didn't answer. Inna watched as he stared ahead, disobeying his orders. The beat of her heart grew more rapid, as she watched in anticipation. Not obeying would not endanger his life, but possibly the little grip on reality he was coping with at that very moment. They would surely wipe him.  
"Mission report, now," Pierce let out once more, louder, forceful. He was face to face with Set, who did not share any eye contact at all with his superior.

And then, in an instant, so quickly Inna could hardly tell what was happening, the back of Pierce's open hand swooped up to meet Set in the cheek, and a loud, crisp crack could be heard as skin met skin, and Pierce backhanded Set viciously. Inna's gasp, though deep, was well concealed, as she turned away slightly, and could not bear witness the scene unfolding before her.  
Yet, as he brought his gaze back up and sat straight once more, a frown took on Set's features.  
"The man on the bridge," he murmured, as if he were newly remembering.  
Inna's heart could almost stop all at once.  
If he revealed that he remembered, he would surely be wiped. And while it was nothing new, the process of clearing his memories from him, these were new memories. These were memories of him before he was the Winter Soldier, before he was anyone's Asset. These were memories Inna could not find in the decades they had on hand of medical logs and memory-wipe post examinations.  
Inna felt he at _least_ deserved to make sense of them before they were pulled from his mind once again.

"Who was he?" Set asked, and finally, let his eyes meet Pierce's. Inna knew very well who it was Set had faced, but didn't dare say a word, as she watched the exchange between Pierce and Set.  
"You met him earlier this week on another assignment," Pierce explained, and while it was not a lie, both Inna and Set could tell it was not the whole truth. Set knew there had to be something more there. He had given him a name, called out 'Bucky.' Set's mind had reacted. It was different to when Inna had called him Set. When the man had called him Bucky, it almost felt as if the name had been imbedded in his mind, and it terrified him. It wasn't foreign, but muffled, hidden beneath a layer of pure white noise, but it was there, somewhere in the depths of his mind. When Inna had called him Set, he thought nothing of it, other than a peculiar contentment with being given a name for the first time in 70 years.

Set knew there had to be something more there, and so, in a moment that surprised Inna and all those in the room, he challenged what he was being told.  
"I knew him."

At this, Pierce took a seat, and Set watched with wide, lost eyes, eyes that made Inna's heart ache.

"Your work has been a gift to mankind," Pierce started, and Inna felt as though she was going to be sick. To hear such words at this very moment in time seemed so out of place, she couldn't handle it. She watched as Set's face turned from a lost confusion to a frown, just as confused as before, but tense. Almost…compliant…?

"You shaped the century. And we need you to do it again, one more time."  
Inna disguised her abrupt turn away from the scene as an effort to sort out the medical supplies on the tray behind her, as she felt the rising anger fill her cheeks with blood, and she was sure they were a blooming red. 'One more time,' Pierce had said. How many times must Set have heard that? 70 years and it was never 'One more time'. They would never be finished using him. Inna had never been so bothered with the use of human life, with the abuse of an individual, and hadn't flinched or questioned the stories her father had told her about the man she shared the room with in that moment. The lost, confused man that was being talked at from different voices, all a blur and a fuzzy mess within his mind. It wasn't until she was face to face with him that she started to question her ability to remain cold toward people, as Hydra required their people to be.  
"Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're going to give it a push," Inna could hear Pierce continue behind her, and she turned her head to hear him clearer, over her shoulder. Her fingers toyed with a bandage as she listened closely.  
"But if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves" Pierce concluded, disguising Hydra's overall ill intentions as a work of good among humankind. For the years and years Inna had known Hydra, and been a part of it, she astonishingly felt furious when she heard the words leave Pierce's lips. The room was filled with a silence that clutched at Inna's heart, gripped it and squeezed it harshly. And then, cutting through the silence-

"But I knew him," Set muttered, as he pursed his lips and looked to the side. Inna could not see what was happening, and was only coaxed into looking back at Set when she heard Pierce stand up, and then say,  
"Prep him."  
Following those words, Set's eyes reached Inna's. She watched silently, her eyes conveying her sorrow, mirroring Set's. They both knew what was about to come, and Inna's eyes delivered the sorry she could not speak aloud. Set's eyes were somewhat sorry as well, not as sorry, though, as they were sad, and afraid.  
"He's been out of cryo too long," Inna heard a voice say. Her head couldn't make sense or distinguish any singular voice, and everything seemed to be swaying. Her head hurt, as well as her chest. She hadn't known emotions to do such a thing to a person, yet here she was, in pain due to the trembling grief she felt for Set.  
"Then wipe him. Start over," Pierce instructed, and Inna, closed her eyes, if only for a few seconds, and let out the breath she had been holding, in pure defeat. This did not go unnoticed. Set watched as her grip on the metal table behind her tightened, her knuckles now white, and she let out a shaky breath. No one was watching her, all eyes in the room were at him. So he let himself look to her. He figured it would not be considered strange, after all, she was his recurring medic.  
The medics got to work doing as they were told, pushing him back with force into the chair, and offering up a mouthguard, something to bite into for the pain he was about to go through.  
Inna felt tears well up in her eyes as it happened, and shared one last brief moment of eye contact with him. A press of a few buttons and he was sealed in tight, unable to move. His arms were trapped and his chest heaved deeply in and out, his lungs and heart unable to supress his fears.

 _She's strange_ , he thought to himself, as he panicked. So many thoughts clawed at him, as if he were trying to preserve and process them all before they were taken from him. Among the memories he tried to cling to so desperately as to make more sense of them and have more time with them, he remembered how only seconds ago he was looking at tears within Inna's eyes. _She's strange_ , he thought, as he heard the headpiece slide into place, getting closer and closer to pain. _She was crying_ , he noted. Why was she crying for him? He could only come to one conclusion. She really was the only person he had known in 70 years that truly cared about him.

Pain.

Blinding pain, which numbed him of everything, yet at the same time felt so heavy, and flooded every inch of his being. It was as if a steel rod was being driven through his head over and over. As if an electric pulse was shot rapidly and continuously through every nerve he owned.

His screams filled the room. They filled her ears.

And inside, Inna screamed along with him.


	14. DC

"Inna," Thomas called, as she cleaned her desk up after sorting out her after-wipe log. She turned in surprise, and Thomas met her with a smile and a forward hand, clutching a leather folder.

"More paperwork?" Inna asked as she took it within her hands and opened it to look upon its contents. In big bold letters, a small ticket read 'WASHINGTON D.C.'

"Of sorts," Thomas smiled as he shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded toward the folder. "Pierce says there's a base at Washington, and their Medics need copies of the medical logs from the Asset, physical copies. He likes sending people, instead of trusting it to postage, so I suggested you go. You could use the break, anyway, you've been working so hard to keep the Asset in top shape," he explained as he sat in the seat across from her. Inna had a frown on her face, confused at first, but finding more clarity in his words. She nodded along by the end, and gave a brief smile. She hadn't travelled for so long, and somehow, amidst all the craziness she'd been experiencing, she was…happy.

No, not happy, but something similar. Something close to happy. Her head was filled with worry at leaving Set, but her heart felt as if she was being freed for a small while.

"He also gave you a bit of free time when you get there, a day or two, to adjust to your surroundings, find your way around."

Inna's mind flicked through all the information she'd ever acquired on Washington. The things to do, to see.

"Might go check out the White House," she said, leaning up against her desk and thinking of all the possibilities. The tickets she held were return flights, giving her 4 days in Washington. She figured it wasn't too long, and it alleviated her worry for Set while she would be gone.

"Should check out the Smithsonian, it's amazing, it takes ages to get around though. Definitely your thing," Thomas suggested, as he reached out for the folder and Inna gave it to him, but not before extracting a tourist's guide to Washington D.C. She flicked through it as Thomas looked upon the paperwork for her flights.

"You're lucky, it might only be a few days but at least you get some free time. I had free time in Russia, but all my free time was used to fill out papers, so it didn't feel 'free' at all," he joked, as he handed back the folder and Inna stashed it all together, giving a soft chuckle and tucking it under her arm.

"Well, I leave in two days, so I better go home and get packing," she shrugged, as she and Thomas excited her office.

"Take heaps of photos, tell me what you think of the museums, and which one's you're favourite."

"Will do."


	15. Exhibits

She had no clue where to start. The whole place was so big, it overwhelmed her, to the point where she thought if she went through any of the museums at all, her mind would be overflowing with knowledge, too much for her to ever retain.  
She stood on Jefferson Drive, glancing down at her map and up at her surroundings. She was between the Hishhorn Museum, and the Air and Space Museum.

"The air and space museum is actually quite interesting, even if you're not really into that sort of thing," Inna heard Presley's voice in her head, remembering when she'd told him of her plan to go to Washington for business, and telling him of Thomas' suggestion to visit the Smithsonian.

"Air and Space it is then," Inna sighed to herself, finally making a decision, and stuffing the map in the bag at her hip. She strode toward it, and her eyes drank in the sights around her. It was a beautiful day, and she couldn't deny the smile forming on her lips. The place was bustling with people, so Inna figured they must have had some special exhibition on.  
Whatever it was, Inna would surely see it.

"One adult ticket, please," her voice rang out clearly and politely, her mix of Russian and America accent catching the ticket salesman for a brief second, before he punched in her order on the register. "What's going on, is there a special event?" She asked, leaning her hands on the counter as she looked about. She adjusted her beanie before looking back to the man with curious eyes. Beneath his ginger moustache, a wide smile grew, and his eyes held disbelief.  
"The specialist event of them all! We got a Captain America exhibit showing, probably our biggest seller to date. Will you be wantin' a ticket for that too?" he beamed, seeming incredibly proud to hear the words come out of his mouth. Inna could tell he was a fan. Then again, what American citizen wasn't a fan of their countries poster-child for freedom?  
She nodded, her curious nature being sparked, and the happily added a ticket to the special exhibit to her order. They were printed out and handed to her, as Inna offered up a polite smile and the man did the same. "Have a nice day, and enjoy the exhibit!" he exclaimed as she walked away.

'Welcome Back, Cap,' read the entrance, offering information on Captain America's beginnings. Inna's hands were tucked neatly in her pockets as she let her feet slowly take her along, and her ears listened intently to the words of the narrator over the PA system.  
"A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world."  
The words rang clear in her mind, and she stopped to read everything she could about America's greatest soldier. She read of his poor health, and the Super Soldier Serum that transformed him into the man he was known to be today. She was especially entranced, by the visual comparison, of his somewhat scrawny figure, and who he was made to be when he came out of the serum testing. She was just taller than the scrawnier Steve Rogers when she stood up to the comparative picture, and as a picture of post-serum Rogers faded into view, she had to look up to see his face. It put into perspective how short Inna really was. Or how tall Captain America was.

Various artefacts from the 1940's were scattered around the place, like the motorbike Rogers had used during his times in the army, photos of him with his team, video footage. Inna huffed as her eyes widened and she realized just how massive the exhibit was. She assumed it would take a whole day just to get through this one exhibition alone. So she didn't watch all the video footage, and only glanced at the photos. They were nothing she hadn't seen before, mostly Steve, surrounded by grateful civilians and members of the army.

She continued along, and she soaked up the atmosphere around her- the awestruck children, the veterans of war who looked upon photos and illustrations of Steve with pride and respect. The parents who smiled fondly at their children, who vowed to be 'just like Captain America' one day, knowing there could be no better influence for their kids. Inna's eyes were opened to the world, the life she could have, outside of Hydra, outside of everything she'd ever known. This little taste of normality threatened to have her addicted, and she didn't know such a freedom could feel so good until that moment in time, where she was just a normal girl, walking through a museum. All was calm in her crazed and erratic world.

Until, of course, she wasn't a normal girl.  
And she was reminded she would never be a normal girl.

She felt as though she was going to throw up, right there and then. She felt as though everything around her was spinning, and her eyes could not grab hold of the focus she needed to stand straight. Her body wavered a bit, it wobbled, and her knees threatened to give way to her body. She was lightheaded.

 _You're fainting_ , her mind told her, medical knowledge kicking into gear. _Sit down somewhere_.

There was nowhere to sit down. She stood in an open space, in front of one of the exhibitions main pieces, and there was absolutely nowhere for her to become steady once more.

"Are you alright?" she heard a voice say, and her mind willed her body to nod. She gave an airy smile and replied,

"Yes, I'm fine, I just feel a little sick."  
Sick was an understatement. Her mind was at war with her body and her body was close to complete collapse.  
"Here," the voice said, as she felt a pair of steady arms clutch her own, and give her support. It was just the support she needed to breathe in and out deeply, and collect herself once more.  
"You've gone white, as if you've seen a ghost," the voice chuckled, and Inna soon comprehended it to be that of an old man. She turned, and she was surely right. He gave her a nod, and his eyes held concern. "Are you alright now, ma'am?" he asked, and her soft smile was kind in reply, as kind as her following words of,  
"Yes, thank you. I must be a bit hot."  
She knew exactly what was wrong. As believable as her lies were, she couldn't fool herself. She was not alright. She was not too hot. She was confused, she was rattled to the absolute core. Her whole world was thrown into a mess, and all because of one thing. One photo.

One word.


	16. Him

It was so fresh, so clear in her mind, it almost didn't seem as if what was happening was truly her reality.

Buchanan.

It was only one word, but it sent a violent quake through Inna's body.

Buchanan.

As she had been carelessly flicking through his paperwork, her eyes had latched onto the word, yet not thought such a thing significant by any means. Truth be told, she thought it to be a possible name of one of the medics that tended to Set long ago.

Yet here she was.

Staring at his beautifully presented face in an image upon the wall, standing beside Steve Rogers. In front of that, a uniform, obviously his old uniform.

After seeing him, she had no choice but to read the accompanying plark, she had to have answers. She didn't have to read the whole plark to be given what she wanted. Her eyes immediately spotted 'Buchanan', and she stumbled away mindlessly, unable to comprehend what was going on.

If Steve Rogers had known the Asset, she could only have imagined their connection was limited. Truth be told, she entered the exhibit in search of maybe the littlest piece of information on Steve calling Set 'Bucky.'

How wrong Inna was, and she knew it as soon as her eyes settled upon Set's figure, so close to Steve, right beside him, as if to be his closest friend.

From there, she couldn't quite think clearly. Her feet moved, and she made the effort to stay out of people's way, her arms wrapped around her own figure, and her bewildered eyes looking about, trying to either find an exit, or more information. Preferably the latter.

It was as if something had lured her, pulled her to the very thing she'd been looking for. Inna slowly stopped when she caught sight of another photograph of Set, an old looking one, projected on a glass wall standing solitary in the exhibit showroom. She made her way up to it and read.

Once again she was overwhelmed with realization, and clarity, as she read along, and the PA began to narrate his life story to her, perfectly timed with her epiphanies.

"Bucky Barnes..." it had said, and Inna put together the pieces.

Buchanan.

Bucky.

She felt stupid for not realizing it beforehand. Maybe she was judtified, after all, she had thought Buchanan was the name of a medic.

Maybe she had known it all along, but denied it before she'd had the chance to think it through.

James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes was Steve Rogers' best friend. He was the only Howling Commando to give his life. He died...

He fell from a freight train and 'died.'

 _His arm,_ Inna thought to herself, _that must be how he lost it._ She thought of the metal limb that stood in it's stead, while her eyes wandered to the screen showing videos of Se-...

Bucky.

Bucky and Steve. And he _smiled._

A genuine, wide, contagious smile. She watched and found herself smiling, tears spilling over. She covered her mouth as her sobs and laugh weaved together, and she admired as Bucky laughed naturally, with eyes that, even through less-than-perfect quality, sparkled with some sort of ambition for life. The same eyes that had once scared Inna, the same eyes that were dark, lost of all hope. Those thoughts were what fueled Inna's cries. She stood there for at least half an hour, moving when people came to read, but still keeoing the footage in sight. It replayed over and over, but she didn't care. Each time she grew fonder and fonder of his smile. His laugh, his playful nature. Everything he wasn't, everything he hadn't been for the last 70 years.

So this is how Steve Rogers had known him. Inna found herself envious of him.

She read his life story over and over, committing it to memory, and etching the image of his youthful vibrant face into her mind to keep with her forever.

She didn't know what she expected of him. Of Bucky. She didn't know what she thought his life would have been like.

She just knew she hadn't thought it was like this.

Never like this.

Inna made the effort to read anything she could that even had the slightest, and eventually found that it was getting dark. The amount of people there had faded, and emptied around her. She'd been too preoccupied to notice.

She took one last long look at his picture on the wall.

He looked so damn strong.

So beautiful.

So proud.

Inna was more than convinced. She would no longer work for Hydra.

Not for their purposes, at least.

She would remain working there only for him. Only to see him.

And maybe, just maybe, if she dared...

She'd help him remember.

Her apartment wasn't far. It was a gorgeous thing, the view was spectacular. She'd nearly spent the whole day just looking out her window when she got there.

She was more than glad she hadn't.

In the beginning of night in the growing dark, she walked toward her accommodation, as she thought about a hurricane of different thoughts an emotions.

In the centre of it all, the eye of the storm that was her mind, was Bucky.

She felt so strange, using his real name. She caught herself calling him 'Set' more than once, and metnally corrected herself.

More importantly though, she didn't deny herself the truth that she'd known for quite some time.

She loved him.

Was it born of sympathy?

Was it bred by their small encounters, and the way his eyes softened when she looked at him?

Was it strengthened by the abnormal trust he held in her?

She didn't know. She assumed so.

But all she could feel inside was a hot, consuming feeling. She knew it to be love.

All she could feel was the sting of a sharp object in the side of her neck, a pair of hands grapple her mouth and waist.

And then...then she could feel nothing.


	17. A Better Man

Limp and heavy, her head hung low. She heard murmurs of noise, mumbles of sounds. A creak as she tried to lift her chin to look up. The light on the room was visible through her closed eyed, she felt it shining on her face. Yet, as she opened her eyes, they stung, and she was slow to open them completely. When she did, she felt the dull ache in the side of her neck. They had injected something into her, and hadn't been gentle about it.

The room was of meduim size, not vastly big but not in any way claustrophobic. The chair she was in felt hard, uncomfortable against her back. The light was bright, a stark white, that gave the room a cold feel.

"Sorry for the rude awakening," a voice called, Inna knew who it belonged to straight away.

Pierce emerged from the shadowed door, hands in his pockets, a dawdling about his pace. Inna's head lulled, and she couldn't quite capture her focus, still dipping in and out of conciousness.

"W...w," her mouth could only just make out the sound, the start of the word 'What', as in 'What's going on?'

"No, no, don't worry, you just rest your head," Pierce urged, sitting down himself. Inna let her head fall back and hit the chair. She winced in pain, and sucked in a sharp breath. Finally her mouth could form the words.

"What's going on...? Why...-ugh-...why are you..."

"Here? Well, as luck would have it, I had paperwork I needed to deliver to a base in D.C," Pierce explained, though it only confused Inna more.

"But...but I was sent to-" Inna tried to mutter, before Pierce once again interjected.

"You thought you were sent to deliver the papers. In reality, this was set up to get you where we wanted you."

Inna's eyes were now open, and the wearily looked upon her boss. Her captor.

"What does that mean?" She asked with a frown. Emerging from her confusion was an anger. She shouldn't have been surprised, dealing with Hydra. She shouldn't have felt so betrayed. But she did. By her sense of safety, by her way of thinking. She should have always been alert. She'd grown too comfortable.

"It means," Pierce started, folding his hands together and taking on an unfortunate tone. "That it has come to my attention, that your efforts in maintaining the Hydra morals and beliefs are...falling. Ever since we put you on the Asset's medical team, you've been unfocused, and your attitudes towards him are far too close for the liking of the Hydra agenda."

Every word he spoke sent Inna's heart beating faster and the burning tears that fogged up her eyes were fast to fall.

"It has not gone unnoticed. He's changed as well you know. You're making him into a better man," Pierce chuckled, humoured at the situation. He had a lengthy pause, regaining the seriousness of the situation.

"But we don't need a better man. We need an assassin. A killer."

"He wasn't a killer before," Inna spat. She figured that there was nothing else she could do. They would lock her up, or force her into working for them. They would seperate her from Bucky forever, as to ensure she could not make further changes to his mentality. She couldn't stop it, now they knew her relations with him.

"Ah yes, your little field trip. I'll admit I am bit of a dramatic. Thought it would be all the more interesting if you found out who he really was, before... well..." Pierce gave a shrug and a smirk, standing from the chair and wandering to the nearby table. He opened the draw, and as he did Inna looked down upon her were metal. She had seen such restraints before. Her drowsy mind couldn't recall where from. She tugged at them slightly, until she heard..

 **Click.**

That was definitely a click. A thud of metal hitting metal. A very distinct click as well.

Her head whipped up immeadiately, the fear in her eyes raw and unmistakable.

"Such a shame!" Pierce sighed, sauntering toward her, as if a predator with his trapped prey.

She felt it press into her temple, cold, hard.

The barrel of a gun.

Inna swallowed thickly and her shaky breathing was uncontrolled.

"The Asset was wiped of your memory. He doesn't remember you at all now."

With a shattering heart, Inna looked Pierce right in the eyes, her final rebellious act against Hydra, among her subtle rebellions through her kindness to Bucky.

"His name...is Bucky," she growled, amidst her trembling breaths from uncertain lungs.

Pierce made the effort of leaning in close, and smiling, sickly and dangerous.

"It _was._ Not anymore."

She closed her eyes.

She drew a breath.

She whispered his name in the depths of her minds.

Not The Winter Soldier.

Not the Asset.

James Buchanan Barnes.

 _Bucky._

And then pain.

Blinding pain which numbed her of everything, yet at the same time felt so heavy, and flooded every inch of her being.


	18. One End, Two Beginnings

"Your name…is James...Buchanan….Barnes…"

Covered in blood and barely alive, the man, Steve, had called out to him through defeated pants of breath. Only moments later Bucky was pulling him from the water below, dragging him to shore.  
These memories replayed themselves as Bucky wandered through the busy halls, looking at walls upon walls of information, facts about a life he didn't know. His eyes were quick to take in everything around him, his hands stashed into his pockets and his hair tucked behind his ears, under a cap. He still made the effort to keep his head low.  
He stopped walking, slowing and then eventually ceasing, and let his wide eyes stare. What stood before him was…himself.  
He had travelled to the Smithsonian Air and Space museum after his run in with 'Captain America.' He figured if he could find out anything, he'd mostly likely do so at the exhibit for Captain America. He hadn't planned on learning so much.  
He looked upon the walls that held his image. He looked strong. He looked…good.  
He was once more than the weapon Hydra made him to be.

An out of body experience was the only way he could describe his feelings in those moments, scanning over the writing someone had sat down and written about _him,_ reading plarks and walls that told him who he was.

 _People shouldn't have to tell you who you are_ , Bucky grumbled internally with downcast eyes.  
 _People aren't brainwashed for several decades_ , either, he noted.

For the next few months, he would deny his role in any of the assassinations he conducted. He would wake up screaming as he witnessed himself in dreams, flickering from memories of the old him, and the killing he did, fresh murders and memories adding to the compilation every now and again.  
By a year, he would accept that, while he was brainwashed, he was aware of his actions, and he still killed the people he did. He was responsible for the deaths of over two dozen people. It would haunt his sleep and torment his waking hours.  
But for now, he just read. Read of the better person he was, the better life he had, just couldn't recall.

The information was so much to take in, Bucky felt compelled to leave. His awakening to his reality was so fresh, so new, and among so many families and children, the museum was not the best place to break down. So his feet hit the round at a fast pace as they carried him away from the area, and he instead left his mind to figure out where the hell he would go from there.  
Where could he go?  
Is there anywhere he would be safe?  
And would there be anywhere he could go where others would be safe?

Brooklyn. That would be his first destination. To his supposed hometown, to discover the memories locked within his brain. Maybe to New Dehli, in India. Maybe Bucharest, in Romania. Maybe Adelaide, in Australia. The distance from all three and America would prove helpful in keeping him hidden. Which is exactly what he needed. To be hidden, alone, able to figure out his own mind.

And so, he set out for the airport. His first stop would be Brooklyn, then from there, he would make an informed decision as to where he would be most safe. Starting the long, painful journey of trying to pull to light the memories Hydra had kept from him, he would need a few things to get him on his way. A backpack, first of all, to keep some spare clothes. He stopped of at an outdoors store and got himself the sturdiest bag he could find, one that could withstand anything the now fugitive would be forced to go through. The constant running, hiding, all of it.  
Well.  
He stole it. He was a desperate man, after all, eager to leave.

Finally, after figuring that he had everything he needed, he made his way to the airport. Luckily, they never took his fake passport off of him, something they always issued when he went out to missions. He had himself figured out, hacking a few bank accounts, stealing a bit of money from each and using it to buy his ticket.

The airport, as expected, was busy. He walked through the entrance, and looked at his ticket. He did all that any normal airline passenger would.

Maybe it was the way her hair glinted in the sun pouring through the open glass walls.  
Maybe it was her voice, that cut through the other swarming and surrounding voices, and reaching his ears.

He turned, frowning. The memory was fresh, his memory of her.  
He immediately rushed up to her and grabbed her shoulder, gently, but enough to capture her attention.  
The woman turned, confused and looking Bucky up and down.

"Is it you?" Bucky asked low, leaning in a little closer so she could hear him, his eyes shadowed by his cap but still bright and anxious. He knew. He knew it was her. He just needed to hear the confirmation in her own words.

"Have we met?" she asked, with a small, polite smile. She genuinely didn't recognize him, and Bucky knew exactly why, when the words left her mouth. Of course she wouldn't recognize him. He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't that, not until he realized it made perfect sense. His blurred memories of their shared eye contact and the way she was with him, gave him the evidence he needed.  
They must have found out.  
About her kindness to him. His trust for her.  
Something he felt stir within when she calmed him, what people usually described, in some twisted sense of the word, as love.

"No, I just…I thought you were someone," he mumbled, his hand slowly and gently slipping from her shoulder. She laughed a little and let her eyes look to the floor, an embarrassed blush fading into her cheeks.  
"I've heard that so many times. It's the generic hair," she laughed, and he attempted a smile as well, following the normal social reactions of a person.  
"It's not the hair. It's the eyes," he said, looking down, and the up through a frown.  
She looked up at his own eyes, and her smile had dropped, been replaced with an open mouth. She was quick to close it, however, and the red in her cheeks only grew more vibrant.  
"I'm Inna," she said, extending a hand. She couldn't deny herself the facts of his beauty. He was an amazingly attractive man, and had he not been a stranger she met at the airport, she would surely have wanted to befriend him, and see where it lead. But she didn't know him. Hell, for all she knew, he could have been a serial killer, disguised in a gorgeous set of eyes and a jawline that would haunt her for days.  
"I'm...I'm Bucky…" he said, using the name and taking her hand in a shake.  
"Huh," she said, frowning as they shook hands and looking away. "sounds familiar. I don't remember quite well, though. I mean, a few weeks ago I was found collapsed in a museum, fainted, in a complete state of amnesia, couldn't remember a thing! That's no excuse though, I've always been a bit forgetful," she explained, before laughing and shaking her head. "But you don't wanna know about that," she added, smiling back up at him.  
The smile that followed upon his lips was full of sadness, as he let her hand go and readied to let her leave.

"Don't worry, there are times I don't remember who I am," he replied as his hands returned to his pockets. He knew she would take this as a joke, and he was right, and he was glad for it. She let a ringing, charming laughter leave her lips, and he smiled in reply, as any normal person should.

"Well, Bucky, it was really nice to meet you. I'll see you around," Inna sighed, with a gentle smile and a wave as she turned, taking her suitcase handle, the rough plastic wheels rolling across the ground as she went on walking a bit, taking one last glance at the mysterious, somehow familiar figure.  
Did she know him? Those eyes, that voice…  
No, there was no way she knew him. She could never forget a face like that.  
She never would forget a face like that.

Bucky watched her leave. He thought of how better off she would be, not tied into his life anymore, the life of Hydra. He struggled with the fact people had taken his memories from him, for so long.  
But for her?  
He was glad.  
She would have a life without Hydra, without him. A better life.  
And while the memories of how he felt about her were resurfacing in a flash flood, her being one of his most recent experiences, he knew he couldn't do anything about it. He didn't want to do anything about it, as it was for the best.  
He wanted her to be happy. By staying out of her life, she could do that.  
She would be his first step to becoming a better person.

"Nice to meet you too. Again."

 _ **The End.**_


	19. Bucharest (Sequel Teaser)

Out of the door. Down the stairs. Onto the next rooftop.

Out the door. Down the stairs. Onto the next rooftop.

Out the door. Down the stairs. Onto the next goddamn rooftop.

His mind repeated the process, over and over and over again. He did this at least once every day, mentally running through his escape plan. It worked no matter what way the enemy tried to enter: any of the windows, the front door, the walls even. Bucky Barnes was fully capable of knocking anyone down or holding anyone off long enough to get down the stairs and to the lower balconies, perfect for jumping from that building to the next and just _running_.


End file.
